The big day arrived. John Watson and Mary Morstan were getting married. Sherlock got up early, whether out of excitement or anxiety, Evelyn couldn't quite tell. She'd barely tied a robe around herself when Sherlock grabbed her and dragged her into the sitting room.
"Can you waltz?" He asked.
"Yes I can, why―"
He pressed play on an ipod, and his latest composition flowed from speakers on his desk. Sherlock took Eve's left hand and placed his hand on her waist. Naturally, her free hand fell on his shoulder as he led her in the steps. Evelyn smiled, enjoying the final product of Sherlock's work for the last several months. The music was simple, beautiful, and had a tinge of unexplainable melancholy. It was perfect.
Sherlock had set out to test the song, but found himself impressed with Eve's dancing ability. Every time he thought he knew her better than she knew herself, every time he felt like he'd cracked the code to understanding her, she'd surprise him. He leaned down to kiss her.
The door behind them creaked open as Mrs. Hudson arrived with a tray of tea things.
Sherlock's lips had barely touched her own when Evelyn ducked backwards out of the kiss. Sherlock closed his eyes and sighed in annoyance.
"Oh, don't stop on my account. I remember what it was like to be young and in love." Mrs. Hudson chirped. "Just came to give you some tea. Thought you'd be too busy this morning to make it yourselves."
"Thanks, mum." Eve said, red-faced.
Evelyn took the tray and set it down, pouring a cup for each of them.
"I thought it was you playing." Mrs. Hudson said.
"It was me playing." Sherlock said tersely, turning off the recording. "I am composing."
"You were dancing." Mrs. Hudson said, sitting in John's chair and accepting her cup of tea.
"We were road-testing." Sherlock said.
"Making sure it'll work for John and Mary tonight." Eve explained.
She handed Sherlock his tea, and perched on the arm of his chair. He let his arm rest behind her, keeping his palm on her lower back. Mrs. Hudson smiled.
"So, it's the big day, then." The older woman said.
"What big day?" Sherlock said with an aloof air.
"The wedding." Mrs. Hudson said incredulously. "John and Mary are getting married."
"Two people who currently live together are about to attend church, have a party, go on a short holiday, then carry on living together. What's big about that?" Sherlock said.
"It changes people, marriage." Mrs. Hudson said.
"Mmmm, no, it doesn't." Sherlock disagreed.
"Well, you wouldn't understand...yet." She said, giving him a pointed look.
"Mum." Evelyn warned.
"Your husband was executed for double homicide. You're hardly an advert for companionship." Sherlock said.
Eve gave him a look.
"Marriage changes you as a person in ways you can't imagine." Mrs. Hudson said.
"So does lethal injection―ah!" Sherlock coughed on his tea as Evelyn pinched him.
"My best friend, Margaret, she was my chief bridesmaid, we were going to be best friends forever, we always said that, but I hardly saw her after that." Mrs. Hudson went on.
"Don't you usually bring biscuits?" Sherlock asked, getting up.
"I've run out."
"Have the shops?" He began to pace.
Eve stood, watching Sherlock with concern. His anxiety over the future with John and Mary was manifesting in exactly the way she was hoping it wouldn't.
"She cried the whole day, saying, 'Ooooh, it's the end of an era.'" Mrs. Hudson said.
"Mum, maybe the shop on the corner is open." Evelyn suggested.
"She was probably right, really. I remember she left early. I mean, who leaves a wedding early? So sad." Mrs. Hudson finished.
"Right, well, I'm sure you've got stuff to do to get ready for the wedding―" Eve started.
"No, not really. I've got plenty of time..."
"Biscuits!" Sherlock shouted.
Mrs. Hudson jumped, rushing out of her seat and towards the door.
"I really am going to have a word with your mother." She threatened.
"You can if you like, she understands very little." Sherlock said, shutting the door.
He turned around, and sighed. Evelyn watched as he gazed over at John's empty chair, deep in thought. She approached him, gently sliding her hand over his shoulder. He looked at her, trepidation in his eyes.
Eve smiled softly at him, reaching up. She ran her fingertips from his temple down to his jaw, studying him. Sherlock relaxed slightly at the affectionate gesture, but his anxiety persisted. He pressed a kiss to Evelyn's forehead.
"Right then." He said, taking her hand and leading them to the bedroom where his suit and her dress hung, ready and waiting, on the wardrobe. "Into battle."
---------------
When Eve arrived at the church, Mary was bent over the toilet in her dressing room, vomiting. Janine was there, fluttering about, unsure of what to do. Evelyn immediately grabbed a towel to protect the dress and knelt down next to her friend. Eve rubbed Mary's back.
"What's wrong, love?" She asked.
Mary coughed, sitting up. "I dunno, I felt fine this morning but all of a sudden―"
She bent back over, getting the last of it out of her system.
"I guess it's just nerves." Mary said eventually, as Evelyn helped her up and gave her some water.
"That's not like you, though, Mar." Eve said. "You're the calmest person I've ever met."
Mary shrugged. After a few minutes, her face returned to its normal color, Janine touched up her hair and make-up, and it was just about time to walk down the aisle.
The service was lovely. John looked dashing, and Mary, having fully recovered, was positively glowing. Neither got teary-eyed, they were both too sensible and full of excitement. The couple exited the church arm-in-arm, with the best man and maid of honor following. The church bells rang and a photographer met them outside.
"Congratulations!" He said. "Okay, hold it there, I want to get this shot of the newlyweds."
Evelyn and a few other bridesmaids stood behind the couple with handfuls of flower petals. Sherlock broke away from Eve and stood right beside John and Mary.
"Erm, just the bride and groom, please." The photographer requested.
"Sherlock." John nudged.
"Oh, sorry." The detective side stepped out of the photo, a sinking feeling in his chest.
"Three, two, one, cheese!" The photographer counted, and the bridesmaids tossed petals as the camera clicked.
The guests spilled out of the church as a frenzy of photos took place. Sherlock and John, Evelyn and Mary, all four of them together, just the bridesmaids, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Molly and Tom, even Archie managed to get some silly faces in a few shots.
In his picture with Eve, Sherlock kept up the stony face he wore in front of any camera, be it the press or Mrs. Hudson's Christmas card. She didn't mind, holding on to his arm and smiling brightly, caught up in the wedding day excitement. The photographer moved on, and Evelyn leaned up to talk to him.
"You alright?" She asked.
"Yes, everything is running smoothly." He replied.
"No, not the wedding. You. It's you I worry about."
"Well, I―" he began.
"Ah, so this is the famous Mr. Holmes." Janine interrupted. "I feel like I should be keeping an eye on you two. Maid of honor and best man. No shenanigans, now."
"Excuse me?" Sherlock said.
"Sherlock, this is Janine. She's looking for someone to go home with tonight." Eve introduced, veering the subject away from her sex life and towards Janine's, which happened to be Janine's favorite topic.
"If that's the sort of thing you're looking for, the man over there in blue is your best bet. Recently divorced doctor with a ginger cat, a barn conversion and a history of erectile dysfunction." Sherlock said. "Reviewing that information..."
"Maybe not your best bet." Evelyn said.
Janine's eyes widened.
"Oh, the two of you together are going to be so helpful."
The party moved next door to the reception hall. John, and Mary stood by the door to greet everyone, while Eve and Sherlock stood beside them. David came up early in the receiving line.
"David!" Mary greeted, going for a hug which he ducked.
"Mary!" He laughed awkwardly. "Congratulations. You look, um, very nice."
"Thanks." She said, a bit miffed.
David shook John's hand. "John, congratulations. You're a lucky man."
"Thank you." John nodded.
"David, this is Sherlock and Eve." Mary introduced.
Evelyn smiled, as did Sherlock, but there was little warmth in their eyes.
"Um, yeah, we've, um, we've met." David stammered before going inside.
Mrs. Hudson came next, with a smile and big kiss on the cheek for each of them. It appeared she'd started on celebratory beverages a little early, and was brimming with love for everyone.
She winked at Eve, and said something about "Weddings always make you think about the future," and "Really gives you a lot of ideas," to Sherlock, who only cleared his throat and ushered her on. Evelyn blushed deeply, hoping the implications had gone over Sherlock's head.
She didn't worry long, because her tall detective was soon distracted by a little boy racing up to hug him. Archie clutched Sherlock's legs tightly, making Eve's heart melt a little bit.
"Yes, um, well-done in the service, Archie." Sherlock said, patting the boy's head stiffly.
"He's really come out of his shell. I don't know how you did it." Archie's mother mused. "He said you had some pictures for him as a treat."
"Er, yes, if he's good." Sherlock said.
"Beheadings." Archie said.
"Lovely little village." Sherlock covered, although Archie's mother looked concerned.
"Hmmm? What did you say?" She asked her son as they walked inside.
Evelyn made a funny "uh-oh" expression at Sherlock. The corner of his mouth ticked upwards. She was adorable.
The line of guests proceeded, and Molly went through, practically hanging off of Tom's arm. They were towards the end of the line, so Molly proposed an idea.
"Could I steal you?" She asked Eve. "We haven't had a moment together in so long and I'd love to catch up before the reception really gets going."
"Oh, um―" Evelyn tried to find an excuse, but Molly had already dragged her into the reception hall.
Tom grabbed glasses of wine from a passing caterer for them as Molly began speaking a mile a minute.
"Oh, it was such a beautiful ceremony! Mary looks gorgeous, and you look gorgeous. I might have to use lilac dresses for our wedding. What do you think? Weddings always make you think about your own future, don't they? Maybe you'd like to be maid of honor again for me? We could even fix you up with one of Tom's friends―"
"Mol, actually, um, there's something I've been meaning to tell you." Eve interrupted.
"Hmm?"
"Well," Evelyn breathed deeply, "I won't be needing that date, because I'm with someone now."
Molly gaped. "Who? I can't believe you haven't told me!"
"Well, maybe you'll believe it when I do," Eve said mostly to herself. "Sherlock and I are together."
Molly paused.
"Oh!" She said. "How long has that been...going on?"
"A month or so." Evelyn said. "Listen, I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, but I wasn't sure where it was all going, and you used to― and I was a little angry about you not telling me he wasn't dead for two years― I didn't handle it like an adult and I'm really sorry―"
Eve stopped short as Molly grabbed her in a crushing hug.
"I'm so happy for you." Molly said.
"Really?" Evelyn felt like she might cry.
"Yes! Of course!" Molly exclaimed, pulling back from the hug. "I always sort of felt he wasn't for me. And now I've found my man, so I know for sure." She smiled at Tom, grabbing his arm again.
"Oh, I'm so glad to hear that." Eve sighed.
"But seriously, what do you think about using the lilac dress idea? Good or bad?" Molly asked again.
"As long as you don't ask Sherlock to plan anything, it'll be amazing." Evelyn laughed.
Mary and John came inside as the last guests entered the hall, with Sherlock following. Eve excused herself just in time to avoid Tom and Molly's notorious PDA. Mary went straight for the hor devours, alleviating any worry Evelyn had about her still feeling ill.
"Hi." She said to Sherlock.
He smiled a little. "Hello."
"How would you feel about being my date to Molly's wedding?" She asked.
"I fully plan on never attending a wedding ever again." He said, surveying the room carefully for any potential disasters.
Eve should have expected that answer, but for some inexplicable reason, it made her heart sink. She knew he found the convention of weddings superfluous, but deep down she'd been hoping he might put that aside someday...for his own wedding. Perhaps it was foolish to hope.
Evelyn didn't have long to dwell on her thoughts. Janine arrived with her sights set on anew target.
"Mmm, he's nice." She said, watching a waiter pass.
Sherlock inhaled. "Traces of two leading brands of deodorant, both advertised for their strengths. Suggestive of a chronic body odor problem manifesting under stress." Sherlock said.
"Okay, done there, what about his friend?" Janine asked, looking into the kitchen.
Eve watched as he pulled a skewer out of the roast.
"Long-term relationship, compulsive cheat." Sherlock said.
"Seriously?" Janine wondered.
"His phone has a waterproof cover, but his complexion doesn't match that of someone who works outdoors. That suggests he likes to take his phone into the shower with him when he gets texts or emails he doesn't want others to see." Evelyn explained.
"Can I keep you two?" Janine asked.
"Do you like finding severed heads in your fridge?" Eve asked.
"What―?"
"Probably not then." Sherlock said, putting his hand on Evelyn's back and guiding them away from Janine.
John had just gone to the door to greet a man in military dress uniform. John beamed as he saluted the officer.
"So that's him," Sherlock said to Mary. "Major Sholto."
"Uh-huh."
"If they're such good friends," Sherlock wondered. "Why does he barely even mention him?"
"He mentions him all the time to me. Never shuts up about him." Mary said.
"Really?" Elle asked.
"Mmm-hmmm." Mary hummed, sipping her wine. She gagged. "Ugh, I chose this wine, it's bloody awful."
Evelyn studied her friend curiously, she'd been raving about the wine just a few days before.
"Yes, but it's definitely him that he talks about?" Sherlock pressed.
Mary nodded.
"I'd never even heard his name until you were sending out the invitations." Eve said.
"Well, he's almost a recluse. You know, since..."
"Yes." Evelyn remembered the unfortunate story about Sholto losing a group of recruits years back.
"I didn't think he'd show up at all. John says he's the most unsociable man he's ever met." Mary said.
"He is?" He's the most unsociable?" Sherlock asked, incredulous.
"Mmm." Mary confirmed.
"Ah, that's why he's bouncing around him like a puppy." Sherlock grumbled.
Eve smiled as Mary took Sherlock's arm. "Oh, Sherlock," Mary cooed. "None of us were the first, you know."
"Stop smiling." Sherlock said grumpily.
"It's my wedding day!" Mary teased.
Evelyn stifled her laughter until Sherlock had walked away to calm down. She sighed, heart full of warmth.
"I'm so happy for you, Mary. Truly, I want you to know that. I love you and I love John, and I think you're perfect for each other."
"Oh my love, I could the same to you!" Mary said, bringing her maid of honor into a hug.
"I know, I know things are going change, but promise me we won't lose each other?" Eve asked.
"Of course we won't." Mary promised. "As long as I live, I'd never let that happen. I've found a husband, a sister, and a friend all in one flat in central London. I'm not letting go of that."
"Thank you." Evelyn said. "Now stop it, or else I'm going to cry."
"Okay, we'll talk about something else. D'you think you'll marry that tall idiot in a year or less?" Mary teased.
"Mary!" Eve exclaimed.
The new bride just laughed, walking away to guide her new husband to the long table at the front of the room. Evelyn took her place a few chairs down from the couple as dinner started. Sherlock joined her a few minutes later, and picked at his food. Eve put a hand on his knee under the table and whispered to him.
"You can handle this." She said. "You're Sherlock bloody Holmes."
An usher tapped a spoon against a champagne glass. "Pray silence for the best man." He announced.
The tables cheered and clapped as Sherlock stood to give his toast. He buttoned his jacket and began.
"Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends. And, um...others." He stammered. "Also..."
There was a long, and painful pause.
"Telegrams." Evelyn whispered.
"Right, um, first thing's first. Telegrams." Sherlock picked up the stack of cards. "Well, they're not really telegrams. We just call them telegrams, I don't know why. Wedding tradition. Because we don't have enough of that already, apparently." He muttered.
"'To Mr. and Mrs. Watson, So sorry I'm unable to be with you on your special day. Good luck and best wishes, Mike Stanford.'"
"Ah, Mike." John and Mary said, trying smiling stiffly.
"'To John and Mary. All good wishes for your special day. With love and many big...big squishy cuddles from Stella and Ted.'" Sherlock read with disgust.
"'Mary, Lots of love...'"
"Yeah?" John prompted.
"'...poppet,'" Sherlock read.
The newlyweds giggled.
"'Oodles of love and heaps of good wishes from Cam. Wish your family could have seen this.'" Sherlock finished.
John took Mary's hand at the mention of her family. She squeezed his hand, happy for the support.
"Um, 'special day,' 'very special day,' 'love,' 'love,' 'love,' 'love.'" Sherlock sped through the other cards. "Bit of a theme, you get the gist. People are basically fond."
The guests laughed.
"John Watson." Sherlock began in earnest. "My friend John Watson. John. When John first broached the subject of being best man, I was confused. I confess at first I didn't realize he was asking me. When finally I understood, I expressed to him that I was both flattered and surprised. I explained to him that I'd never expected this request and I was a little daunted in the face of it. I nonetheless promised that I would do my very best to accomplish a task which was, for me, a demanding and difficult as any I had ever contemplated. Additionally, I thanked him for the trust he placed in me and indicated that I was, in some ways, very close to being moved by it. It later transpired that I'd said none of this outloud."
The crowd laughed. Sherlock cleared his throat and pulled out the enormous pile of notes from his jacket pocket. He began discarding them one by one.
"Done that, done that, done that bit..." He murmured to himself before finding his place. "I'm afraid, John, I can't congratulate you. All emotions, and in particular love, stand opposed to the pure cold reason I hold above all things."
Eve looked down at the table.
"A wedding is, in my considered opinion, nothing short of a celebration of all that is false and specious and irrational and sentimental in this ailing and morally compromised world. Today we honor the deathwatch beetle that is the doom of our society and in time, one feels certain, our entire species."
Evelyn bit her lip, trying to stay composed.
"But anyway, let's talk about John." Sherlock continued. "If I burden myself with a little helpmate during my adventures, it is not out of sentiment or caprice, it is that he has many fine qualities of his own that he has overlooked in his obsession with me. Indeed any reputation I have for mental acuity and sharpness comes in truth from the extraordinary contrast John so selflessly provides."
Eve and John exchanged looks of hurt and confusion.
"It is a fact, I believe, that brides tend to favour exceptionally plain bridesmaids for their big day. There is a certain analogy there, I feel."
Janine tried to fix her hair.
"And contrast after all is God's own plan to enhance the beauty of his creation. Or it would be if God were not a ludicrous fantasy designed to provide a career opportunity for the family idiot."
The crowd murmured.
"The point I'm trying to make is that I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant, and all around obnoxious arsehole that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to meet." Sherlock explained. "I am dismissive of the virtuous, unaware of the beautiful, and uncomprehending in the face of the happy. So if I didn't understand I was being asked to be best man it is because I never expected to anybody's best friend. And certainly not the best friend of the bravest and kindest and wisest man I've ever had the good fortune of knowing. I never expected to find myself enjoying those emotions so opposed to reason and logic, either."
Sherlock glanced at Evelyn.
"John, I am a ridiculous man. Redeemed only by the warmth and constancy of your friendship. But as apparently your best friend, I cannot congratulate you on your choice of companion." Sherlock said. "Actually, now I can."
Mary grinned.
"Mary, when I say you deserve this man, it is the highest compliment of which I am capable. John, you have endured war and injury and tragic loss. So sorry again about that last one. So know this: Today you sit with the woman you have made your wife, the man you have saved, and the woman who helped you save him. In short, the three people who love you most in all this world. And I know I speak for them as well when I say that we will never let you down and we have a lifetime ahead to prove that." Sherlock said.
Eve wiped away the tears on her cheeks.
"If I try and hug him, stop me." John whispered to Mary.
"Certainly not." She patted his arm.
"Ah yes, now onto some funny stories about John..." Sherlock looked up from his notes, seeing the audience in tears. "What's wrong? What happened? Why are you all doing that?"
Sherlock looked to Evelyn, but saw her crying too.
"John?" He asked frantically. "Did I do it wrong?"
"No you didn't," John said, standing up. "Come here."
John hugged his best friend. The crowd clapped, and Mary laughed. John took his seat again and Sherlock continued.
"So onto some funny stories about John." Sherlock paused. "If you could all just cheer up a bit, that would be better."
The guests laughed.
"On we go. So for funny stories, one has to look no further than John's blog. The record of our time together. Of course, he does tend to romanticize things a bit but then, you know, he's a romantic. We've tackled some strange cases. The Hollow Client. The Poisoned Giant. We've had some frustrating cases. Touching cases. And of course I have to mention The Elephant in the Room. But we want something very particular for this special day, don't we? The Bloody Guardsman. "
Sherlock recounted the tale of Private Steven Bainbridge from the Royal Guard. He and John had gone to the barracks to speak with him when they came across his bleeding and unconscious body in the shower.
"Private Bainbridge had just come off guard duty. He'd stood there for hours, plenty of people watching, nothing apparently wrong. He came off duty and within minutes was nearly dead from a wound in his stomach but there was no weapon. Where did it go? Ladies and gentlemen, I invite you to consider this: a murderer who can walk through walls, a weapon that can vanish. But in all of this there is only one element which can be said to be truly remarkable. Would anyone like to make a guess?"
The crowd muttered amongst themselves, but no one spoke up.
"Scotland Yard, have you got a theory?" Sherlock singled Lestrade out. "Yeah, you. You're a detective, broadly speaking. Got a theory?"
"Um, if the blade was propelled through the, um...grating in the air vent...Maybe a ballista or a catapult, somebody tiny could crawl in there. So yeah, we're looking for a dwarf." Lestrade stammered.
"Brilliant."
"Really?" Lestrade asked.
"No." Sherlock said. "Next."
Tom whispered something to Lestrade. It caught Sherlock's attention.
"Tom, got a theory?"
"Um, attempted suicide with a blade made of compacted blood and bone. Broke of after piercing his abdomen, like a meat....dagger."
"A meat dagger?"
"Yes."
"No." Sherlock shot down. "There was one feature, and only one feature of interest in the whole of this baffling case and quite frankly it was the usual. John Watson. Who, while I was trying to solve a murder, instead saved a life. There are mysteries worth solving and stories worth telling. The best and bravest man I know and on top of that he actually knows how to do stuff. Except wedding planning and serviettes, he's rubbish at those."
The bridal party laughed.
"The case itself remains the most ingenious and brilliantly planned murder or attempted murder I've ever had the pleasure to encounter. The most perfect locked-room mystery of which I am aware. However, I'm not just here to praise John, I'm also here to embarrass him, so let's move on to some―"
"No, wait. So how was it done?" Lestrade interrupted.
"How was what done?"
"The stabbing."
"I'm afraid I don't know." Sherlock admitted. "I didn't solve that one, that's...It can happen sometimes. It's very, very disappointing." Sherlock got back on track. "Embarrassment leads me on to the stage night. Of course there's hours of material here, but I've cut it down to the good bits."
Eve and Mary exchanged smiles as Sherlock told everyone about The Mayfly Man. He and John had met Tessa shortly after Sherlock's drunk phone call, and the case began. As Sherlock told the story, the conclusion of the case still didn't sit quite right with her.
"Married. Obvious, really." Sherlock said. "Our mayfly man was trying to escape the suffocating chains of domesticity and instead of endless nights in watching the telly or going to barbeques with the awful, dreadful, boring people he couldn't stand, he used his wits, cleverness and powers of disguise to play the field. He was..."
Sherlock stopped, surveying the audience's expressions. "On second thoughts, I probably should have told you about The Elephant in the Room. However, it does help to further illustrate how invaluable John is to me. I can read a crime scene the way he can understand a human being. I used to think that's what made me special. Quite frankly, I still do. But a word to the wise― Should any of you require the services of either of us, I will solve your murder, but it takes John Watson to save your life. Trust me on that, I should know. He's saved mine so many times and in so many ways. "
Sherlock held up his phone. "This blog is the story of two men ― and occasionally a woman ― and their frankly ridiculous adventures. Of murder, mystery, and mayhem. But from now on, there's a new story. A bigger adventure. Ladies and gentlemen, pray charge your glasses and be upstanding. Today begin the adventures of Mary Elizabeth Watson and John Hamish Watson. The two reasons why every single one of us is―"
Sherlock stopped short. The photographer snapped several photos, the flash shining on his face. Eleanor knew that expression. He was in his mind palace. His champagne glass slipped from his hand and fell to the floor.
"...here today." The glass shattered.
An usher handed him a fresh glass.
"Now, where were we?" Sherlock gathered his senses. "Ah yes, raising our glasses and standing up. Very good, thank you. And down again."
The confused guests did as he said.
"Ladies and gentlemen, people tell you not to milk a good speech. Get off early, leave them laughing. Wise advice I'll certainly try to bear in mind but for now..." Sherlock leapt over the table and began walking through the hall. "Part two! Part two is more action based. I'm going to walk around, shake things up a bit."
Eve sat on the edge of her seat, watching him. Something was wrong.
"Who'd go to a wedding? That's the question." Sherlock said. "Who would bother to go to any lengths to get themselves to a wedding? Well everyone. Weddings are great! Love a wedding."
"What's he doing?" Mary whispered.
"Something's wrong." John said.
"I think he's solving a case." Evelyn said.
"And John's great too!" Sherlock said, walking back. "I haven't said that enough, barely scratched the surface. I could go on all night about the depth and complexity of his...jumpers. And he can cook. Does a thing, thing with peas...once. Might not be peas, might not be him. But he's got a great singing voice, or somebody does...too many, too many, too many!" Sherlock spun around, getting frustrated. "Sorry, too many jokes about John."
Eve gripped the tablecloth, waiting for a signal.
"Now, where was I? Speech! Speech." Sherlock said. "Let's talk about murder. Sorry, did I say 'murder?' I meant to say 'marriage.' But you know, they're quite similar procedures when you think about it, the participants tend to know each other and it's over when one of them's dead. In fairness, murder is a lot quicker though."
Sherlock pointed out a man at table four. "Janine, what about this one? Acceptably hot? More importantly, his girlfriend's wearing brand new uncomfortable underwear and hasn't bothered to pick this thread off the top of his jacket or pint out the grease smudge on the back of his neck. Currently he's going home alone." Sherlock was texting behind his back. "Also, he's a comics and sci-fi geek, they're always tremendously grateful when you put the hours in."
Sherlock chuckled, turning to Lestrade. "Jeff, the gents. The loos now please."
"Greg." Lestrade corrected.
"The loos please."
"Why?" Lestrade's phone pinged.
"I don't know, maybe it's your turn." Sherlock growled.
Lestrade read the text. "Actually, now that you mention it..." He got up to leave.
"Sherlock," John called. "Any chance of an end date for this speech? Gotta cut the cake."
"Oh!" Sherlock exclaimed. "Ladies and gentlemen, can't stand it when I finally get the chance to speak for once, Vatican Cameos."
Evelyn stood up, ready to move, fight, or whatever he needed.
"What did he say? What does that mean?" Mary asked.
"Battle stations, someone's going to die." John said, grabbing her hand and sitting up.
"No!" Sherlock yelled, slapping himself. "Not you! Not you! You." He pointed at his friends.
"It's always you." He said, coming back to the table. "You keep me right."
John stood, joining Eve.
"What do we do?" She asked.
"You've already done it. Don't solve the murder, save the life." Sherlock said, before turning back to the crowd. "Sorry, off-piste a bit, back now, phew! Let's play a game. Let's play Murder. Imagine someone's going to get murdered at a wedding. Who exactly would you pick?" Sherlock asked.
"I think you're a popular choice at the moment, dear." Mrs. Hudson said.
"If someone could move Mrs. Hudson's glass just slightly out of reach, that would be lovely." Sherlock said. "More importantly, who could you only kill at a wedding? Most people you can kill any old place. As a mental exercise I have often planned the murder of friends and colleagues. Now John, I'd poison. Sloppy eater, dead easy. Given him chemicals and compounds that way, he's never even noticed. He missed a whole Wednesday once, didn't have a clue. Lestrade's so easy to kill, it's a miracle no one's succumbed to the temptation. I've got a pair of keys to my brother's house, I could easily break in and asphyxiate him...if the whim arose. Evelyn is comparatively harder to kill, but then again she's very trusting, so a knife between the ribs would do it if the killer felt so inclined. So, once again, who could you only kill here?
"Clearly, it's a rare opportunity, so it's someone who doesn't get out much. Someone for whom a planned social encounter known about months in advance is an exception. Has to be a unique opportunity. And since killing someone in public is difficult, killing them in private isn't an option. Someone who lives in an inaccessible or unknown location, then. Someone private perhaps, obsessed with personal security...possibly someone under threat."
Sholto. Eve thought. She said nothing, not wanting to expose him if the killer were in the room.
"Oh, a recluse?" Sherlock mused, scribbling a note on a scrap of paper. "Small household staff. High turnover for additional security. Probably all signed confidentiality agreements." Sherlock handed Sholto the note.
"There's another question that remains, however, rather a big one, a huge one. How would you do it? How do you kill someone in public? There has to be a way. This has been planned." Sherlock said.
"Mr. Holmes! Mr. Holmes!" Archie spoke up.
"Oh, hello again Archie. What's your theory? Get this right, and there's a headless nun in it for you." Sherlock said.
"The invisible man could do it." Archie said.
"The who the what the why the when the where?"
"The invisible man with the invisible knife, the one who tried to kill the guardsman." Archie offered.
Sherlock inhaled, thinking fast. Sholto rose calmly and made his way towards the door.
"Oh, not just planned, planned and rehearsed." Sherlock said to himself. "Ladies and gentlemen, there will now be a short interlude. To the bride and groom!" Sherlock raised a glass.
Sherlock turned and spoke to his friends. "Major Sholto is going to be murdered. I don't know how or by whom, but it's going to happen." He said before taking off after the officer.
Evelyn was right on his heels, winding past guests on their way out of the hall. John and Mary followed.
"It's the Mayfly Man." Eve said to Sherlock as they dashed for the stairs.
"Exactly." Sherlock agreed. "Do you remember which room Sholto is in?"
Evelyn stopped, searching her memories.
"How can you not remember which room? You both remember everything!" John complained.
"We have to delete some things!" Sherlock said.
"207!" Mary said, catching up and running past them.
Sherlock got to the door first, finding it locked. He banged his fist against it.
"Major Sholto! Major Sholto!"
"If someone's about to make an attempt on my life, it won't be the first time. I'm ready." Sholto said.
"Major, let us in." John pleaded.
"Kick the door down." Mary suggested.
"I really wouldn't." Sholto called. "I have a gun in my hand and a lifetime of unfortunate reflexes."
"Major, please." Eve said. "You're not safe in there. We know that doors don't stop whoever wants to kill you."
"The invisible man with the invisible knife?" Sholto said.
"I don't know how he does it so I can't stop him, and that means he'll do it again." Sherlock said.
"Solve it, then." Sholto demanded.
"I'm sorry?"
"You're the famous Mr. Holmes. Solve the case, on you go." Sholto said. "Tell me how he did it and I'll open the door."
"Please, this is no time for games. Just let us in, you're in danger!" John yelled.
"So are you, so long as you're here. Please, leave me." the Major said. "Despite my reputation, I really don't approve of collateral damage."
"Solve it." Mary said. "Solve it, like he said and he'll open the door."
"I couldn't solve it before, how can I solve it now?" Sherlock said.
"I wasn't talking to you." Mary said.
Evelyn pinched the bridge of her nose, concentrating. She inhaled sharply.
"Sherlock, the belt. It's just like the meat they were preparing in the kitchen earlier." She said.
Sherlock's eyes widened. He pulled her to him and kissed her.
"You're brilliant." He said. "Although, in fairness, so am I."
"I know." Mary said.
"Major Sholto, there's no invisible man coming to kill you." Eve said. "I'm so sorry, but you've already been killed several hours ago. Do not take off your belt."
"My belt?" Sholto questioned.
"His belt, yes." Sherlock said. "Bainbridge was stabbed hours before we even saw him, but it was through his belt. Tight belt, worn very high on the waist. Very easy to push a small blade through the fabric, and you wouldn't even feel it."
"The belt would bind the flesh together when it was tight." John worked out.
"Right." Evelyn agreed.
"And when you took it off..."
"Delayed action stabbing." Sherlock said. "All the time in the world to create an alibi. Major Sholto!" Sherlock tried the door again.
"So..." came the Major's voice. "I was to be killed by my uniform. How appropriate."
"I solved it, Major. Open the door, please." Eve said.
"I'm not even supposed to have this anymore. They gave me special dispensation to keep it. I couldn't imagine life out of this uniform. I suppose, given the circumstances, I don't have to. When so many want you dead, it hardly seems good manners to argue."
"Whatever you're doing in there, James, stop it right now." John insisted. "I will kick this door down."
"Mr. Holmes, you and I are similar, I think." Sholto said.
"Yes, I think we are."
"There's a proper time to die, isn't there?" Sholto asked.
"Of course there is."
Evelyn grabbed Sherlock's arm.
"And one should embrace it when it comes." Sholto said. "Like a soldier."
"Of course one should but not at John's wedding!" Sherlock argued. "We wouldn't do that, would we, you and me? We would never do that to John Watson."
Sherlock put his hand over Eve's and squeezed reassuringly. John leaned in to listen at the door.
"I'm going to break it down." He announced, taking off his jacket.
"Wait, wait, you won't have to." Mary stopped him.
The door opened. Major Sholto stepped out.
"I believe I am in need of medical attention." He said.
"I believe I'm your doctor." John said.
--------------
Sherlock and Evelyn danced together near the coatroom. Sherlock hummed the tune, leading her through the waltz.
"Are you sure we need all this practice?" She asked. "I used to dance when I was kid, you know."
"We are about dance together in public for the first time." Sherlock said.
Eve laughed. "You just want another opportunity to dance." She teased.
He pressed a kiss to her neck. "I know."
"You're distracting me from the steps..." She warned.
"I know." He repeated, smiling.
"Well!" John walked in. "I'm glad you've pulled, Sherlock, what with murderers running riot at my wedding."
"One murder. One nearly murderer." Sherlock complained.
"Sherlock," Lestrade came in through a side door. "Got him for you."
"Ah!" Sherlock said. "The photographer, excellent. Thank you. Um, may I have a look at your camera?"
"Uh, what's this about? I was halfway home." the photographer said.
"You should have driven faster." Sherlock advised. "Ah, yes. Yes! Very good! There, you see? Perfect."
"What is?" Lestrade asked. "You going to tell us?"
"Try looking yourself." he passed the camera off.
"Who? For what?" John asked. "Is the murderer in these photographs?"
"It's not what's in them, it's what's not in any of the photographs." Evelyn said. "There is always a person at a wedding who's not in any of the pictures. They can go wherever they like, carry a bag if they need to, and you never see a face."
"You only ever see..." Sherlock handcuffed the photographer. "The camera."
"What are you doing? What is this?" The photographer asked.
"Jonathan Small, today's substitute wedding photographer, known to us as the Mayfly Man." Sherlock said. "His brother was one of the raw recruits killed in that incursion. Johnny sought revenge on Sholto, worked his way through Sholto's staff, found what he needed. An invitation to a wedding. The one time Sholto would have to be out in public. So, he made his plan and rehearsed the murder, making sure of every last detail. Brilliant, ruthless, and almost certainly a monomaniac. Though, in fairness, his photographs are actually quite good. Everything you need is on that." Sherlock tossed his phone to Lestrade. "You probably ought to arrest him or something."
Mary came by and walked in to get John.
"It's not me you should be arresting, Mr. Holmes." Jonathan said.
"Oh, I don't do the arresting, I just farm that out." Sherlock said.
"Sholto, he's the killer, not me." He said. "I should have killed him quicker. I shouldn't have tried to be clever."
"You should have driven faster." Sherlock breathed.
He offered Eve his arm, and they walked to the dancehall with John and Mary close behind.
Sherlock got up on the stage and began to play the waltz he wrote for the new couple. Evelyn watched from the side of the stage as they danced, completely entranced with one another. John dipped Mary at the end, making her giggle. Eve stepped up to the microphone.
"Hi everyone, just one last thing before we get to the dancing. Apologies for earlier, there was a bit of a crisis, but it was dealt with. More importantly, however, we saw two people we love and care about make vows today."
She beckoned Sherlock over.
"Sherlock is not one for vows, but I've dragged him into it. Mary and John..."
"Whatever it takes, whatever happens, we swear we will always be there," Sherlock began.
"Always. For all three of you―oh, sorry, I meant two of you. Both of you." Evelyn finished. "Start the music! It's time to dance!"
She and Sherlock got off the stage and approached John and Mary.
"Sorry about that, that deduction sort of came upon me." Eve said.
"Deduction?" Mary asked.
"All the signs are there. Increased appetite, change in your perception of taste and you were sick this morning. They're all there." Evelyn said.
"The signs of three." Sherlock said.
"What?"
"I think you should take a pregnancy test." Eve grinned.
John took a deep breath, composing himself. "How did she notice before me? I'm a bloody doctor."
"It's your day off." Sherlock said.
"It's your day off!" John retorted.
"Stop panicking."
"I'm not panicking!" John protested.
"I'm pregnant, I'm panicking!" Mary interjected.
"No panicking! Absolutely no reason to panic." Sherlock said.
"Oh, and you'd know of course?" John was incredulous.
"Yes I would. You're already the best parents in the world, look at all the practice you've had. You're hardly going to need me around now that you've got a real baby on the way."
They all laughed for a minute, trying not to get overwhelmed. Evelyn slipped her hand into Sherlock's.
"Dance." She told John and Mary.
"Come on, husband, let's go." Mary said.
"This isn't a waltz, is it?" John joked.
"Don't worry Mary, I have been tutoring him." Sherlock said.
"He did, you know. Baker Street, behind closed curtains. Glad I never walked in on Eve's lessons though..." John said as they danced away.
Sherlock's smile faded. Evelyn reached up and touched his cheek.
"Hey," she said, "I don't know what's going to happen either, but we're not losing them. We're not."
"Evelyn―"
"Shhhh," She kissed him briefly. "It's going to be okay. Just dance."
Eve shimmied her shoulders and bounced around goofily until Sherlock smiled.
"Your form is horrendous." He said.
"Then show me how it's done, Mr. Holmes." She challenged.
He took her hand and twirled her before pulling her flush against his chest. She felt breathless.
"As you wish." Sherlock said.